


Truth

by Impressioniste



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impressioniste/pseuds/Impressioniste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fear and truth and first times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This version has been edited and slightly rewritten from the original that was previously posted and removed.

His first time with Hawke is gentle, loving, unhurried—all the things Anders has always believed he could never have, things that were simply impossible because of who and what he was, things that would always be just out of reach for someone like him.

Fear still grips him even so, crushing his heart like a vise inside his chest, but this time it is not fear of rejection or interruptions or templars, but fear that when it comes time for them to part—a day he knows will come, despite persuasive assurances to the contrary—that it will be the cold and lonely end of everything he has ever found good in this world.

He pushes those fears away for a time because right now he is with Hawke, in the warm, comforting privacy of Hawke’s bedroom with nothing left to come between them, nothing to keep them from one another, nothing to push them apart... and it all feels so real that it hurts.

Their movements are slow, languid, affectionate; Anders finds his usual, familiar feelings of casual and unattached physical intimacy overtaken by an unusual, clumsy sincerity, and his heart aches. Their arms twist and tangle in the shuffle to rid Anders of his coat, and Hawke laughs, low and rough and somehow sweet in the depths of his chest, and Anders can do nothing but join him, chuckling softly and anxiously as Hawke pulls himself free and offers assistance with painfully gentle hands—hands that suddenly seem so much steadier and sturdier than his own.

Warmed by the laughter, Anders feels himself slowly let go, melting into Hawke a little more with each touch.

After clasps and buckles and buttons and boots have been dispensed with and warm, inviting kisses have been pressed to every rough inch of his lips and cheeks and jaw and chin; when the inviting orange firelight is the only thing left between them, Anders suddenly hesitates at the sharp, terrifying jolt fear clawing its way back into his chest.

He draws back, feeling oddly foreign and out of place, feeling anxiously like he has made a mistake. Apologies and excuses run rampant through the maze of thoughts filling his head, but before he can pick one from the chaos and force it from his lips, Hawke is deliberately pulling him down, stroking and kissing and so gently reassuring that Anders feels his fears easing away with the warmth of Hawke’s lips and his arms, healing the damaged parts of his heart he thought long beyond repair, not with magic, but with tenderness and love.

Anders has been kissed before, has been touched before, has had sex before—certainly enough times that this should all feel far more familiar than it does—but it feels so different with Hawke, the same way that _everything_ between them does, in an achingly wonderful way he cannot find the words to describe. His experiences in the Circle seem a world away from all of this, so pale and fleeting in comparison, the memories like dusty, broken remnants of another man's life, and Anders finally allows himself to accept the fact that he really _hasn’t_ ever done this before, at least, not like this.

Hawke tells him everything is fine, and he tells himself that, too, and even though he knows it cannot be true, that nothing good can ever come of love between two people like them no matter how good or strong that love might seem to be, he is willing to set the truth aside and take Hawke at his word, if only for just a little while.


End file.
